


Whenever you Need Someone

by Dancewithknives



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A - Freeform, Angela "Mercy" Ziegler is an Angel, Blackwatch Genji, Blues, Car Accident, Cupcake - Freeform, Doctor and Patient, F/M, Guilt, Love songs, Meanwhile, Mercy - Freeform, Mercy being a doctor, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Rage, Rainy Night, Rock and Roll, THE HUMAN CONDITION, Traffic, Young Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, and, bake, drunk, fails, genji - Freeform, gets, in, plays, to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-03-08 23:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18905116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancewithknives/pseuds/Dancewithknives
Summary: One cold night, Genji faces his demons, and learns that this world is not meant to be walked alone.I just want to put a warning out that this story features brief description of a graphic car accident.





	1. Chapter 1

Whenever you need someone…

 

 

Doctor Angela Ziegler paused in front of the door to the examination room, waiting on her own nerves as she stood with a binder in her hand. She had heard the rumors, the idle gossip around the medical facility; that the young medical prodigy had become obsessed with her own little project like a star struck teenage girl obsessing over a boy. For as much as she would deny it, at this point she had to admit that they were true. To set the rumor straight, she wasn’t a teenage girl obsessing over a boy, she was twenty two years old, and while in retrospect she would have to admit she did seem obsessed over this project, she would secede that, at this point, it was done more out of regret and pity. After all, there was a difference between simply being alive, and living. The most embarrassing thing out of all of it was that she didn’t even know his name.

 

Taking one final breath, Angela rapped her knuckles on the door, and after a few seconds of courtesy, she opened the door to the room.

 

Inside, the room was mostly dark. Flashing lights from medical apparatuses glowed in the room as well as machine parts and gadgets on all varying types. Power tools mixed with scalpels, blood packs with oil, and spools of wiring and cable intertwined with IV’s full of fluid waiting in their sterile containers. Sitting in the corner, like the emperor surveying his domain from the confines of his dungeon, was a man.

 

To the unassuming eye, they probably wouldn’t notice the resident of the room, especially in the dark with all the lights low and machines blinking in every which way, but what truly camouflaged this dark figure in the room was his metallic form. Armor and machine prosthetics nearly covered the man’s body from head to toe. Secret compartments for armor and weapons were hidden in place where boring normal human flesh would be, synthetic organs had replaced their natural counterparts throughout the chest cavity. Even entire limbs were now gone, completely replaced by carbon fiber wiring and metallic chassis. The only thing that betrayed the metallic man from his surroundings were his remaining human parts, an entire flesh arm rested on the side of the chair while parts of his face that were not covered by his visor remained.

 

The doctor greeted the patient in the room, and received nothing in return. The man sat on his throne and stared ahead, only occasionally blinking. “How were your prosthetics functioning today?” she asked, approaching the side of the large machine chair, flipping down a console and looking at the screen inside. In response, all she heard was an apathetic, “Fine.”

 

The doctor gave a slight sigh, and then returned to work. It was not easy to work on someone who didn’t seem to have any response to stimuli, be it operating on a near corpse, or simply trying to converse with them, but patience was a virtue, and eventually something would break through. Although asking how a patient was feeling was second nature to any practitioner of medicine, there was more to the question than just formalities. The chair that her patient was sitting in was not just an ordinary piece of furniture, it was as much of a high tech piece of machinery as his cybernetics were.

 

Unlike the much more barbaric methods of old, the solutions to her enhancements were not as simple as lopping off a limb, cauterizing the wound, attaching a hook in its spot and calling it a day. No, the amount of extensive work put into saving this patient had involved an extreme amount of amputation and replacement. The amount of foreign elements and chemicals in his body was toxic, even additives to make his body adjust to his new metallic organs were almost as harmful as the malady they were trying to replace, but that was where the chair came in.

 

Although eventually there would come a time when the body would no longer need its assistance, the chair in this room was designed to purify and recycle the fluids coursing through the subject’s veins. Like an oversized liver, this device plugged directly into its user and rejuvenated the body, removed the toxins in the bloodstream, and kept the occupant alive. After time and proper acclamation to his new body, the subject would no longer require to use it, but it would take a while, and with how much he was being pushed to fight, every second counted.

 

After seeing that his vitals were fine, the doctor closed the control console and made her way to the table to update her notes. All the while, the subject in the chair kept lifelessly staring ahead. It was uncanny to look at, one cybernetic eye and one human, but both seemed to be devoid of life.

 

After writing in her notes, the doctor turned around to face the patient and said, “Your response to your new body is quite remarkable. Progress has accelerated much faster than I had expected, almost too fast it seems. Feel free to tell me if you are feeling any discomforts or changes you would like to suggest.”

 

The doctor was saying that in an automatic sort of way, not expecting an answer, which showed in how surprised she was when she actually earned a unique response. “My eyes.” She dropped what she was doing and approached the patient, bending over to get a good look at his eyes. He continued, “they aren’t moving fast enough. I can’t focus if they keep splitting on me.”

 

“My…” she said, “If your prosthetic is moving too quickly, we can work on that to-”

 

“No,” he said, “Its too slow.” The doctor was shocked, this had to be a joke. After initial testing, the iris had already been brought up to its maximum safe speed to compensate for the subjects remarkably fast reflexes, there was no way that his biological eye was faster than that. “I want you to take it out.” He said.

 

The doctor gave a hard swallow, thinking of what to say, “I… I understand that it may not feel comfortable, but removing the prosthetic isn’t a long term solution. I’m sure that if I talk to Commander Reyes and we take more time, it will surely-”

 

“No.” he corrected. “the other one.”

 

The doctor was silent, dumbfounded in a moment of shock and expecting her stoic patient to burst out laughing at her expense at any moment, but as the silence lasted longer and longer, she came to realize he was serious. Eventually, she composed herself and answered, “Well… I will have to request permission from Commander Reyes first… but in the mean time I will pursue alternative options.”

 

“Fine.”

 

She returned to her notes on the table, pawing through them to find any other orders of business that needed to be done before leaving, and found a dossier of the patient’s profile. Glancing through it, she reengaged the conversation, stating, “Oh, and it seems there is a missing entry in your profile. If you would, what is your date of birth?”

 

The half man gave a sigh, completely apathetic to the request, but after noticing that silence would not be an answer, he finally said, “February 23rd, 2055.”

 

The doctor paused for a moment, beginning to say, “wait, that’s…” but as soon as she realized the significance of the date, she changed her tone and wrote the information down, replying, “thank you, Mr…”

 

Staring absolute daggers at her, the illusive man in the chair only said, “Sparrow.”

 

Giving a sigh, the doctor closed the file and set it down. She thanked “Sparrow”, and not finding any other excuse to stay longer, gathered her things to leave. Before leaving, she picked up the remote to the television in the room and turned it on, hitting the hot-keyed favorites and turning it to hyper-stylized cartoons.

 

Besides the television, the room was inactive afterwards, and after waiting to make sure that he would not receive any more visitors, Genji Shimada took the remote and turned the television off. Many things angered Genji –or as his codename went, “Sparrow”- nowadays, but there was something in particular about how that doctor would always turn the television on before leaving. Nobody was that dense to not see that he wanted to be left in solitude, and of course, turning it to anime as if he was some teenage otaku? Ignorance is what it was.

 

But no matter, he was free now, and if the daily routine around the base would foretell, he would be alone for the next ten hours.

 

“[You shouldn’t have done that.]”

 

Genji smirked, the action hidden beneath his visor, “I got away with it, didn’t I?” he thought back.

 

The drab steel armor of his chest began to glow green, like it was being dissolved away by acid. Forming from the glow came the head of a serpent, a great bearded dragon filled with spiritual energy drifted out of the torso and turned, wrapping around to look at the master who had inherited its power.

 

Speaking from the thought-bond that the two shared, the great green dragon spoke once more, “[She almost caught you. You must understand that even I am in the shadow of my former strength in this state. You must recover.]”

 

“You worry too much, Kita.” He said, “and besides,” he added, looking at his robotic arm and hand, “What would they do if they caught me? They’ve already taken one hand.”

 

The dragon looked away in disgust, “[Petty thievery, is that what you’ve resorted to now? Shame. Shame upon you, Genji.]”

 

The cybernetic ninja scoffed at his old ally’s concern as he lounged in his chair, feeling the ports and pods entering into his body to perform their function, “Save it for someone who cares.” He said, opening up his hand and revealing some crisp folded notes hiding within.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

“Huh?” Angela said aloud, “What’s this?”

 

When Overwatch was originally formed, their beginnings were small and humble, but as the organization gained fame and notoriety, its staff and scope expanded many times over. With the growing pains of the organization, the need of larger living spaces expanded the room and housing requirements of a growing workforce. Single men in particular were more than happy to save the money and just live in bunks in a barracks, but for those with families or people who needed their privacy, a new base had to be made.

 

Thus, as more people stood under the Overwatch banner, a new complex was acquired. Although all secure, the new base had layers of defenses for the security of its subjects. For the needs of new families from all over the world, a school was built to accommodate the children, a suburb was made for the spouses of the enlisted individuals, and since most of the recruits of Overwatch came from the United States, a large grocery store was constructed within the confines of the complex to sustain them all. Although it wasn’t as large as a modern day superstore, the MaxMart inside of the camp still was able to accommodate most of the needs of a family unit. Although Angela would often get her groceries elsewhere, it was indeed awfully convenient to have the store nearby, inside the fence line and en-route on her way home.

 

Although the store was mostly empty, floors being cleaned and shelves restocked by the nightshift, she found herself paused in front of a red cardboard cutout with a small shelf for items to be placed within. At the top of the stand was a printout of fireworks bursting in the sky with the word, “SALE!” in the center.

 

She had just ran into the store to grab a few things that she had thought of at the very last minute and then rush home, and her shopping cart had mirrored that. All that was held within was a package of a dozen eggs, two boxes of cake mix, a can of decorative frosting, candles, a cupcake tin, and wax-paper cupcake wrappers so she, herself, was surprised at the distraction right before checkout.

 

She reached into the display and pulled out a thin cardboard tab and red the front, “100 years of Passion! The Greatest Love Songs from the last Century.” She flipped the tab over and looked on the back, seeing a long list of the songs on the back of the tab.

 

Valentine’s Day had been earlier in the month. She had paid the holiday no heed, but since this whole base was made to be a little slice of America in the middle of Europe, it seemed that this chain store managed to get the promotions as well. She saw the price tag on the tab, and was about to return it to the bin until she saw the display that it was in had marked it down considerably. She didn’t need it per se… but at the same time, she had to admit that it was a little too quiet around her condo some times. As she investigated the advertisement closer, the tab had no hard material on it, and instead held the download code for the catalog, and that the format of the music allowed it to be shared to all of her smart devices, from her personal computer, to her phone, to her car, to her television, and even her home’s audio system.

 

As she stood before the empty embankments of self-checkout lanes, she checked the track listings again. Glancing through them all, she had to admit that she didn’t recognize any of them. Were they all old? That possibly could be the reason, but more likely it was because they all seemed to be English or American Rock n’ Roll and Soul songs, and she was Swiss. She was about to put the cardboard tab back where it belonged because she was weary that she wouldn’t enjoy the selection, but then she stopped herself once more. This was supposed to be the best of the best selection, so she shouldn’t just discount that it would automatically be bad, and when she thought of it, when she was learning advanced English in school, her teacher would have them listen to old Anglophone music to better understand the language and what its speakers said –or rather, don’t say- to express their meaning.

 

After all, that was what helped the most when it came to her name becoming “AN-jel-Ah!”

 

And so, without further protest, she dropped the tab into her cart and proceeded to the self-checkout lane.

 

She scanned her items, paid for it all, and bagged them all up and put them back in her cart to pull to her car, but as she walked back to the entrance to the store, she had to stop and pause for a moment. Large plate glass windows lined the front face of the store, allowing shoppers to look in and out of the MaxMart, and although the inside of the market was bright with an artificial white florescent light, the outside of the store was pitch black. The night was a dark as ink, a cold February rain shower saturated the dark world and almost made it look like the cold void of space.

 

Angela tightened the straps and flaps of her trench coat a little tighter at the sight of the downpour outside. From the very bottom of her heart, she hoped that nobody was out there in the cold night.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Sparrow… He really hated that name. The stupid pet-name that his family had given him for his energetic behavior. It seemed that no matter what Genji did or was able to accomplish, he was always just a sparrow darting through the wind.

 

For as much as he loathed the title, a part of him had to agree that it was quite fitting. Maybe someday the realization that “the Sparrow” was what ruined the Shimada Crime Family would bring peace to his soul, but that was for another time. His thirst for vengeance could wait for a night. This little excursion was for him, first.

 

Genji walked through the alleyways and spaces between buildings in the cold night. He wore an old sweatshirt, a treasure plundered from a garbage can on an earlier foray out of the base when he was supposed to wait until morning. His hands, hidden in the center pocket of his shirt, held a small collection of money that he had spent the last month plundering from his “colleagues”. Someone focusing on a task for too long was an easy pickpocket, money left on tables or in the dispensers of vending machines were just waiting to be claimed, and it wasn’t his fault if someone left their possessions unattended or locker unlocked.

 

Emerging out of an alleyway, he looked around an old dormant street. Cars were parked, streetlamps were on, and lights were off in the houses. It seemed the whole world was asleep except for the liquor store on the exact opposite side of the street.

 

The Dragon emerged from the spirit world and appeared beside Genji. He said, “[This is not wise. You do not respect the consequences of your actions. You must return, find peace within yourself before the poison takes you along this path once more.]”

 

Genji scoffed at the counsel of his spirit dragon, “You worry too much. Just leave me alone for a night and let me enjoy something in the world.” He then walked across the street, and headed towards the store, but Kita did not follow. The dragon had not been lying when he said that his strength was diminishing, it had cost him all that he had to simply keep his heir alive before, but now, as more of the man had become machine, and Genji turned his back on his advice for the final time, the great dragon could do nothing but close his eyes, and slowly fade into the night.

 

Genji entered the store, the bell on the door alerting the grizzled attendant as he sat at the counter and watched a small television before him. The clerk stood as Genji approached the counter and faced him. Was Genji impulsive? Yes. Yet, it had to be said that he was not completely reckless. His arrival in this store was not a surprise coincidence or chance, he knew the dangers of if he got caught sneaking out of the base, and so, as he lurked around the local town, he scouted out all of his potential stops and came to the conclusion that this was the only liquor store without a security system.

 

The man looked at the smaller customer hiding behind a hooded sweatshirt and demanded, “What.”

 

Genji looked through the man’s selection. The store was sparse and had no decorations, nothing but booze, booze, and more booze lined the shelves and freezers in the hole-in-the-wall shop, but none of that interested Genji. In his previous life, he had been a hedonist of only the finest of delicacies in life, and even in this lesser state, he knew that the only thing for him was behind the counter and on the very top shelf.

 

Settling on the only tolerable choice, he pointed up at the top of the shelf and said, “That one,” before he dropped a pile of notes on the counter.

 

The man turned, reaching up into the sacred level of collection and pulled down the bottle, inspecting in bottle and giving a laugh. He set it down, but did not let his hand leave the top of the glass. What he had produced was a clear glass bottle, filled with an equally clear liquid. On the label, in silver lettering was the word, “Sunset”. Below it was a picture of the sun setting over the coast of the Caribbean with a golden banner below it with the name, ”Saint Vincent”.

 

The owner wasn’t dumb, only drunks, bums, vagarants, and ne’er-do-wells come to his store this late at night and ask for the expensive stuff. He didn’t trust a man who hid himself behind a hood after walking into his store. For all he knew, this could have been some angsty teen sneaking out on Mommy and Daddy, and even if it cost a sale, he wasn’t going to let anyone try to guilt him into this. “Can I see some I.D.?” he said, challenging his late night customer.

 

Genji, eyeing him from behind his disguise, stared down the storeowner, and after rummaging through his pockets, set down another wad of bills.

 

The man watched, and after seeing the robotic hand emerge and disappear before him, he gave a nod and an approving huff. He let go of the bottle, and without saying a word, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo on his shoulder which showed an eagle flying with an omnic’s robotic eyes in its talons. Below it was the word, “Buneswehr 113th”.

He looked into his guest’s eyes and saw enough, the horrors of war, the things that nobody was meant to see, the nights of waking up in combat to find yourself alone in a dark room although your mind was stuck in the past. He took the money for the beverage and backed away, letting Genji grab it and walk out into the cold night.

 

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Although the lights were on, the drapes were closed in Dr. Ziegler’s condo. Music filled all of the rooms of the residence, including the kitchen. In said kitchen, a small mess had been made on the counter by the oven, where a mixing bowl, kitchenware and ingredients had been scattered across its surface while the final product was cooking in the oven.

 

Although a studious woman, pride had overtaken Angela, and upon mixing and finishing the cake batter, she had decied to throw it in the oven to cook alongside her dinner while she washed off for the night. Although twenty minutes at 180 degrees Celsius would perfect for warming up leftover Salsbury Steak and noodles, it was not the case for cupcakes. But that issues was out of sight and out of mind at that moment, for she was in the shower and washing her hair to an electronic beat.

 

Although she couldn’t dance, she felt the music flow through her and almost compelled her to try, but she resisted. What she couldn’t resist, though, was singing along with the warm water as a she heard the demands of a love-struck woman demanding her love’s commitment.

 

_“Tell it to mein heart;_

_Tell me I’m ze only one._

_Tell me if it’s love or just une game!”_

 

She had uploaded the new music catalog to her home system when she got home, and as she had started to listen, she would often play a song once to listen to what it had to say and then replay it to actually enjoy it. As she did so, she had a feeling that the album she had bought was less a collection of the best love songs ever, and more a bunch of old songs about love that happen to be public domain at this point. But, to be honest, she didn’t particularly mind as she sang along to the electronic 80’s beat. She had a feeling that this catalog was going to be a pleasant surprise, and was happy that she had decided to go ahead and buy it, for her other decision for the night was now smoldering in the oven.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

A car flashed by, speeding through the rainy night, its headlights illuminated the bottle and made the clear liquid shine within. Genji sat on the side rail of this small bridge, paying no heed to the occasional traveler speeding behind him. He didn’t care about the rain, or the cold, all he wanted was to have a bottle to himself in order to think back on his old life, on the old times.

 

The concoction was cold, but it burned like fire as it splashed against his lips and seared his tongue. It felt good, like a treasure from a time long since passed. It reminded him of his time in luxury, of drinking expensive drinks in lavish places with beautiful women. It numbed the pain, dulled his hatred, this bottle made him actually consider not hating himself as much. But, as his mind wandered, his innocent thoughts would bring him to rage, it would make his blood boil, the thought would make him think that the alcohol on his tongue ignite and cause his smoky breath to become fire. All of it inevitably would lead back to him, to Hanzo, the ‘brother’ who had done this to him.

 

When the thoughts became too powerful, he would have to stop himself, calm down and focus on the bottle. The greater his buzz became, the more he realized how much he missed something like this. If not for the fact that it was just a fine bottle of rum, then he would definitely appreciate how it cleansed his palette from all of the nutrient rich soy food he was forced to eat. As time stretched on, he realized how light he was beginning to feel, and realized that it had been too long since he had enjoyed a good drink.

 

His thoughts and hypothesizes may have been true. It had been over a year since he had last touched a bottle, and the sterilized food he was prescribed was indeed terrible, but it had a purpose. Back when he was Genji Shimada, he may have been able to down an entire botte of 151 Sunset, but as Sparrow, the cyborg that was more machine than man. His liver was metal now, and even if it could remove machine toxins from his bloodstream, a rapid influx of 169 Proof was a whole new experience.

 

As more and more of it drip drip dripped down his throat, the machines within him were becoming less and less able to function.

 

But then, like a knife through the dark, a voice cut through the storm around him.

 

“Sparrow… Not even death could teach you shame.”

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

So, Angela’s first foray into baking was wrapped up in a bag in a dumpster, but that was precisely why she planned ahead and prepared to try again. As she looked inside her oven, she saw the dough had cooked itself up and looked like fluffy mounds of bready goodness and filled her kitchen with the warm scent of strawberry and vanilla.

 

The smell of success was delightful. As she sat back in her chair, she closed her eyes and breathed in the sweet scent coming from her oven. It reminded her of a warm summer day, taking a vacation from college to visit the only family she had left on her aunt’s dairy farm. Being free of books, of tests, assignments, deadlines, and all of the other things that had filled her life since she had lost her parents. It was amazing how the smell of baked goods could make someone forget about all of their worries.

 

Then a voice came, like a chorus of angels from heaven singing down from above to serenade her.

_“I believe in you,_

_You know the door to my very soul._

_You’re the light in my deepest darkest hour;_

_You’re my savior when I fall._

_And you may not think I care for you_

_When you know down inside that I really do,_

_And It’s me you need to show._

_How deep is your love? Is you love? How deep is your love._

_I really need to know._

_‘Cause we’re living in a world of fools,_

_Breaking us down,_

_When they all should let us be._

_We belong to you and me.”_

 

It was at that moment that Angela shot her eyes open with a childish smile on her face. She was enjoying the song when a strange thought occurred to her. “Were those women singing?” She kept thinking about it, and the thought became too funny to just pass up. She turned back to her table and dug through the paper in search of her phone. She had been researching the cybernetic eye enhancements that she had procured and was studying to see if there was an override to their factory installed motion sickness features when she returned to baking.

 

She found the phone and began looking up the song. The alarm on her oven activated just as she hit the search bar, so she returned to her treats cooking inside the oven. She popped her head up and grabbed her oven mitts, opened the oven, and pulled the tray out and set it atop her stove.

 

She closed her eyes and took a deep inhale, it smelled magnificent. She almost wanted to pop one out and have it now, but she knew that she shouldn’t. She pulled over the tube of paper cups and got her spatula ready to for them to cool, but as she waited, a thought occurred to her.

 

“How am I supposed to get the wrappers to stay with the cupcakes?”

 

It was at that moment that she realized that she may have done things a little bit backwards.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

Genji jumped, spinning as he twirled from sitting on the safety barrier to standing on it, arms raised to protect himself. When he reached full height, he tried to stop, and although his mind expected him to be ready for battle, his body was still in mid motion, falling with his momentum as his head spun. It took spinning his arms around in midair like a buffoon to save himself from falling onto the cement.

 

He put his hand up to his head, feeling like his entire cranium had gone numb and his mind was gone. He looked at the bottle in his other hand, and things became clearer. He discarded the glass bottle and looked up at the dark figure hidden in the night. “Poison?” he declared, “Come to finish what you started, Hanzo?”

 

As requested, Hanzo Shimada appeared from the darkness, bow in hand and ninja garb on as well. Hanzo drew back his bow and declared, “The ailment you suffer is your ego and lack of discipline, brother.”

 

Genji armed himself, three shuriken lifting from the internal magazine built into his forearm and were placed into easy reach of his fingers. He firmed his hand into a fist, but felt as if he was only barely holding onto the blades. Even in his handicapped state, his rage steadied his hand as he shouted, “You have no right to claim that any longer. Die!”

 

Genji whipped his arm forward, letting loose three blades. The three shuriken wafted lazily though the air, struggling to keep flight through the rain. Hanzo loosened his draw and stepped aside, turning his body to let the weapons harmlessly pass by him.

 

“Such arrogance.” He scoffed.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Round three was now in the oven. Although failing twice was discouraging, there was still some good news to be had. Trying to scrape the cupcakes out of the pan almost brought Angela to tears as she was forced to rip apart all of her hard work, but when she was left with an empty pan and a plate full of dismembered cupcakes, she used the opportunity to try out her handiwork. She had to admit that the warm cupcakes were extra delicious on a cold, rainy night.

 

But, failure wouldn’t keep her down. She made sure to use cooking oil, used the correct temperature and time, and had filled the cupcake tin with the wrappers before adding in the batter. With the timer on and batch in the oven, she was confident that this would finally work.

 

Now in her private basement lab, Angela Ziegler was toying with a model of an artificial eye to see if she could find a solution to her patient’s issue. She had to admit that his request had been a bit disturbing, but she saw a secondary solution to the problem. She had already been forced to remove so much of him already that taking away more probably wouldn’t change much, but she had no idea if doing so would cause long-term psychological damage, and as she had said, there was a difference between living and being alive.

 

During her medical training, she always supposed that she knew there was a difference between the two, but it really wasn’t until seeing it for herself that the distinction truly became apparent. She had seen the deceased before, having passed from a number of causes, but still be kept functioning through machines and other procedures in order to be used again. Comatose patients, lying still like corpses in a crypt for months, years even, living but not alive in a way that anyone would call a quality life.

 

That was what made “Sparrow” so interesting. Yes, he could walk, talk, and move, but it didn’t feel like he was interacting with anyone. He was like a corpse that had been turned into a tool, being taken out of storage to perform a task and then put away until needed once more. She honestly didn’t care if people though her devotion to this patient was weird, she had taken an oath when she became a surgeon; ‘First, do no harm’, and as she worked on him and eventually brought him back to life, she didn’t know if he was better off dead or not.

 

At first, she didn’t know almost anything about him. He was more dead than alive, but there was still something in him that was keeping him from passing on, so she would fight for him. When he was just a comatose patient, about the only thing that she could discover was that, judging from his eyes, she assumed that he was oriental Japanese, and that gave her the idea to buy a television package and play cartoons in his native tongue for him to listen to. She had hoped that would eventually help guide him out of the deep dark sleep.

 

Her next idea didn’t come until earlier this day, when he robotically stated his date of birth and Angela realized that it happened to be tomorrow. That was what drove her to go and pick up ingredients to bake some cupcakes and try on three separate occasions to make him a little birthday cake. Maybe that would make him realize that there was more to life than just sitting in the dark to himself.

 

And, if it didn’t happen to work, then at least she could say that her little adventure in baking had led her to discover what she had declared was her new favorite song in the world as hummed to the music out of her workstation’s speakers.

 

_“Whenever blue teardrops are falling,_

_And my emotional stability is leaving me._

_There is somethin’ I can do,_

_I can get on the telephone and call you up baby!_

_And_

_Honey, I know you’ll be there to heal me,_

_The love you give to me will free me._

_If you don’t know the think you’re dealin’_

_I can tell you darling, its sexual healing!”_

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

Genji loaded another three shuriken into his hand, but when he tightened his fist, all three fell out and landed on the pavement.

 

“Even after all of this time,” Hanzo said, “you still haven’t changed.”

 

“And neither have you!” Genji spat, “Still serving the masters who order you to kill your own brother!” Arming once more, Genji threw another shuriken at his opponent. Hanzo quickly drew back his bow and let an arrow loose, hitting the flying knife in midair and sending both back to their sender. Genji pulled out his short sword, seeing the blurry object coming towards him, and deflected, saving himself from damage but unable to resist the power behind the arrow as it knocked him to the ground.

 

On his back, Genji looked up, seeing his brother soaring through the air mid strike and rolled out of the way. He struggled to his feet, finding that Hanzo had already beaten him to a standing position. The elder ninja drew back his bow once more, spiritual light glowing from his core, “No, You were already dead to us all. It was my duty to save your honor, now stop delaying the inevitable.” Now at full draw, he shouted. “Ryuuga wagateki wo kurau!” and let loose the arrow, this time empowering it with his ancestral dragon.

 

Genji stood dumbfounded as he witnessed the great twin spirit dragons preparing to rend his soul once more.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

There was only one King.

 

Although he drove a truck most days out of the year, it was Hans’ mission in life to share with people the life and power of Elvis Presley. Yes, he was used to the reaction that he would get when people learned of his favorite hobby, and he would allow them to pretend to know what he did, but there was much more to imitating Elvis than slicking one’s hair back and saying, “thang ya, thang ya vurrry mush.”

 

To truly understand the man, Hans had studied his life, his prestige, his mannerism, his upbringing to truly become The King. Elvis fest in Las Vegas wasn’t for another two months, but Hans had already grown out his sideburns in preparation for it. He had sewn his own sequin jacket and learned to play the guitar years ago in order to be the complete package, and as he had practiced singing in his Semitruck for years, he was sure than he would win first prize at the Elvis impersonation contest this year.

 

Oh, and it didn’t help that his music was good as well, but that was beside the fact.

 

Being a night trucker meant that he would have a lot of time alone at night with nothing but the road to keep him company, so he used his idle time to sing along with his idol and train himself to suppress his German accent and actually fool people into thinking he was a humble boy from Mississippi. His night had only begun, and he wouldn’t be off duty until two hours after sunrise, so as he traveled down the same round he had done countless times, he sang along with the King of Rock and Roll,

_“Wise men say, only fools rush in,_

_But I can’t help, falling in love with you…_

_Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?_

_If I can’t help, falling in love with you.”_

 

Be it the rainy night, or the familiar route he was taking, Hans was not paying as much attention to the road as he should have, and it was far too late for him when he noticed that there was someone standing in the middle of the overpass.  He honked his horn, hit the brakes, and did everything in his power to stop his vehicle, but there simply wasn’t anything he could do to stop himself.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

With only two minutes to go on the timer, Angela made a shocking discovery. For as tough and bad as they tried to look, underneath a mountain of fast cars, cocaine, hard liquor, and loose women, even the hardest of Rock n’ Rollers still had a soft heart. For as many songs as a band could make about drug fueled orgies, their exploits as international celebrities or worship of dark arts and their dirty deeds, the work that would inevitably stand out the most was the love ballad. Sure, they could dress up in armor, tattered clothes, makeup, and use enough hairspray to put Angela to shame -which, as she hated to admit, was an impressive feat- deep underneath the charade of it all, they were still men and needed a good woman in their life.

 

Dr. Ziegler was no expert on the matter, but from what she could tell from casual internet encyclopedia research all of these great musicians would live as idols, but fall into isolation. For every moment of invincibility, they needed one of weakness, one to be the character they had made, and one to be themselves. And as each of the greats had done, they dedicated a tale to the loves of their lives, the one they could reach out too, lest they descend into the deepest pit of despair.

 

“ _You say you've cried a thousand rivers_

_And now you’re swimming for the shore._

_You left me drowning in my tears,_

_And you won’t save me anymore_

_I’m praying to God you’ll give me one more chance girl!_

_I’ll be there for you,_

_These five words I swear to you._

_When you breathe, I want to be the air for you._

_I’ll be there for you!”_

 

Angela’s adventure in baking had been fun, but it had taken far too long. Any minute now, the cupcakes would be ready and all she was planning on doing was taking them out to cool and frost them in the morning. Although she could go all night if needed, she had to admit that she was feeling tired now.

 

Just as the timer passed the one minute mark, another idea popped into her head. She grabbed her phone and logged into her remote view of her workstation and flipped through the applications. “Sparrow” was a very unique case, although all cybernetic augments could be designed with diagnostic checks, her patient was so heavily changed that almost all of his vital functions were able to be viewed at a moment’s notice. Since his condition had been so delicate for so long, and Angela knew the most of his status, it only made sense that she would be able to access his internals and decipher what was going on at a moment’s notice.

 

So, as she typed in her password and scanned her thumb, she accessed the patient file for, “Sparrow” and expected to find his vitals to be that of someone who was sleeping.

 

What she found caused her to jump to her feet and run out of the house, leaving the oven beeping and cupcakes cooking until the next day.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

Face in the cement, Genji awoke to the sound of pouring rain beating against his body. Ears ringing, head pounding, body numb, and one eye shut, he struggled to look around and find where he was.  He saw some barren trees around him and grass along the cement walkway where he had landed. He looked up, and what he saw was an overpass above him over a stream, and a semi-truck that had broken through the concrete barrier.

 

He struggled to his back, sat up, world spinning all the while, and then tried to use both of his hands to stand, but immediately fell to his side on the cement once more. In a haze, he looked over at the arm that had failed to pick himself up and immediately regretted doing so.

 

Ignoring the arm that he couldn’t… use, Genji struggled to his feet once more on his remaining arm. Somehow, he managed to stand, and falling forward, he made it to the side of a tree and leaned against it in the cold rain.

 

A presence approached from behind him, demanding, “Why do you keep fighting? What is it that is keeping you from dying. Tell me!”

 

“You…”Genji growled, “I’m going to kill you!”

 

Through broken armored plates and cracked gyros, Genji reached up with his arm and grabbed ahold of the sacred blade on his back, unsheathing it and slashing it at his assailant behind him.

 

Hanzo stepped back, retreating from the lazy and uneven slash as he led Genji further and further into the darkness.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

“ _Turn around…_

_Every now and then I get a little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes…_

_Turn around, Bright Eyes…_

_Every now and then I fall Apart… And I need you now tonight_

_And I need you more then ev-_ ”

 

Doctor Ziegler slammed the power button on her car’s console, immediately shutting the music off. Background noise was the last thing she needed as she sped through the sleeping town, rain pelting the windshield and puddles of water completely washing over the vehicle as if she were in the middle of a tidal wave. Panicking, she kept her head on a swivel as she checked for other motorists or pedestrians, but she needed to keep moving, and that didn’t necessarily mean she could follow all of the rules of the road.

 

Phone on the seat beside her, she would glance at the device as it followed her current location down the road, giving off audible directions as her dot on the GPS tracker moved towards the other dot on the map.

 

She followed the turn by turn directions, but the blurring lights in the distance gave her a sinking feeling in her stomach as she spotted the flashing blue and red lights in the dark. Sure enough, as she drove closer, it was undoubtable that she was approaching the scene of an accident. Even though it was incredibly late at night, policemen were already on the premise, squad cars blocking off both sides of the overpass with their emergency light on. A semi-truck and box trailer were blocking off half of the road and road flares were marking off the area.

 

Angela slowed down, pulling up to the bridge at the line of flares like a moronic tourist wanting to spectate the scene. A man approached in the dark, waving her away, so she rolled down her window and stuck her head into the cold rain and shouted, “What happened!”

 

“Road’s closed. You’ll have to find another way around.”

 

“What happened!”

 

“There was an accident, you can’t come through here.”

 

“I’m a doctor. What happened!”

 

“A truck ran into a pedestrian. You can’t be here, its unsafe. Please leave.”

 

Angela cursed to herself, looking through her possessions for an ID or a better way to get this man to tell her what she wanted to know, but when doing so looked at her phone once more. The wreck was in front of her, but according to her display, Sparrow was a few meters away in another direction. She then realized the overpass overlooked a river and a small recreational park. Without wasting any more time, Angela hit the gas and turned around, running over the flares and speeding back a short distance before turning off into the park. When at the gate, she parked her car and left it running, grabbing her phone and running into the night wearing a pair of sweatpants and a T shirt.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

Genji took another step forward and made a chopping swing, only cutting through air as Hanzo kept entreating his brother further and further into the park.

 

“Death and destruction, that is the only talent you have. You destroyed yourself, you destroyed your dignity, you destroyed or family’s name. You even destroyed our bond.”

 

“Shut up, Hanzo!” he growled, swinging once more and missing once again. He stabbed the sharpened sword into the dirt, using it to support his weight as he caught his breath again. After a moment, he finally mustered the vile to say, “Kill me or stand still. Either way, just stop talking.”

 

Hanzo approached, kicking the sword away and causing Genji to collapse on the ground. “No, I have something else in mind.”

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

Drenched and not able to see much in the dark, Angela ran through the park, following the feel of cement on her feet and followed the light of the nearby vehicles on the Overpass. She kept glancing at her phone, using it as both a light source and a map to where her patient was. She kept running, feeling the water soak her toes in the tennis shoes she had thrown on as she rushed out the door and watched the distance to her target as it shrunk.

 

One hundred meters.

Fifty meters.

Thirty meters.

Ten.

Five.

Two?

 

She looked around, she could see the men on the bridge and the semi truck that had broken a piece of the embankment off, but nobody was here. She kept looking around in circles, looking for any form near her, and as she stumbled in the dark, she stepped on something that almost made her trip.

 

She looked down, and immediately dry-heaved in her mouth.

 

The module for the monitoring and tracking device was attached in the bicep region of her patient’s armor. That piece of armor was attached to his arm, and his arm was attached to nothing at all.

 

Wanting to collapse into a ruined pile of hot tears in the cold night’s rain, Angela shakily reached down, picking up the arm and bringing it to her. A moment away from breaking down in complete failure, she rolled all of her emotion into a ball and used all of her energy to scream out at the top of her lungs, “Sparrow! Where are you!?”

 

There was nothing, nothing changed, the rain kept falling, the lights kept blinking, and the men on the overpass kept doing their job, but Angela Ziegler was left all alone in the public park.

 

Then, out of nowhere, she saw something, down the cement path that lead further into the park, she saw what looked to be a green light, just glowing in the dark of the night, pulsating slowly and then fading away.

 

Arm in hand, she picked herself up and began running towards where the light had been.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

Knocked to the ground once more, Genji struggled back to his feet again, tripping over himself or a kick from his brother whenever he had fortified his position. Hanzo walked in circles around him, like a shark marking the bloody remains of a fresh kill.

 

“I showed you mercy when I first put you down.” He began, “I showed compassion to not let you suffer, but even death itself cannot change you. So no more. No more kindness or spoiling. If pain is necessary turn you into an honorable man, then you shall suffer now.”

 

Hanzo stopped behind him. Genji, having heard enough patronizing for one lifetime, finally stood with katana in hand. Suffering? After all he had gone through, what did Hanzo know about suffering? Still fuming with hatred, Genji seethed out the words, “I have had enough of your bullshit!” and spun around, striking out to finally end Hanzo Shimada, but hit nothing but air.

 

“Sparrow!” cried out a woman.

 

Genji searched, and approaching from outside of the darkness was a woman, running with all of her might. Genji searched for Hanzo, but found no trace of the elder ninja, nothing but him standing alone in the rain.

 

Either elated that he was alive or amazed that he was somehow standing, the woman ran straight to him. The ninja, losing feeling in his entire body, fell to his knees and dropped his sword, slouching in a sitting position.

 

The woman ran to his side, grabbing a hold of him and catching her breath as she reassured him that she was here. Before he could wonder who she was, Angela was already under his remaining arm and hoisting him to his feet, trying to dial her phone while picking up his shattered pieces. Inevitably, the phone dropped, and in a panic, she picked it up with two fingers and then grabbed for the sword he had discarded and yipped in pain as she cut her fingers open.

 

Leaving the weapon behind, She struggled to her feet and put the phone to her ear, walking as Genji felt his mind fade away from his body.

 

He faded out, only coming back a moment later when red and blue flashing lights were in his vision.

 

“Hello? Yes! This is Doctor Ziegler, I need a full surgical suite prepared immediately. I need any available staff on hand. Hold on-”

 

Genji faded, coming too as a blinding white light burned his eyes, and the idle hum of an engine rumbled in his ears. 

 

“Almost there, stay with me, Please…” the woman begged. “Hello? Yes. Yes, it’s Sparrow, gather everything you can, there’s been a terrible accident and I’m driving in, just… I’ll be right there.”

 

At the side of the car, the woman leveraged all of Genji’s weight on her back as she forced herself between him and the car, forcing the door open and then allowing him to fall into the back seat. She threw a few things in as well before slamming the door on his foot. She got into the driver’s seat and looked back, seeing him and saying, “You’ll be fine, just stay with me.” Before hitting the gas and driving away.

 

The roar of the engine and barrage of rain on the windshield began to mix together, slowly fading as Genji’s eye became harder and harder to keep open.

 

But then, through the ever darkening world, Genji began to hear one of the strangest sounds he could think of, a guitar string. A careful melody of acoustic strumming began to fill his world. He looked in front of him, and that was when he noticed that hardly a few inches from his face was the active screen of a cellphone, playing a quiet little beat for him.

 

It was nice, it really helped him forget the pain he was in as he just relaxed and slowly closed his eye.

 

A voice cut through the nulling noise, saying “[Rest now, Genji.]”

 

“ _What would you do,_

_If my heart was torn in two?_

_More than words to show you feel,_

_that your love for me is real._

_What would you say,_

_If I took those words away?_

_Then you couldn’t make things new_

_Just by saying I love you_!”

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

He didn’t know when exactly he had awoken, but at one undiscernible point in the future, Genji realized he was in a room. The lights were on, the air was warm, he was dry, and he couldn’t move. He blinked, clearing his vision, but soon realized that he couldn’t feel half of his face, and that one side was completely black.

 

Training as a youth to become a ninja was a rite of passage in his clan, and the teachings he received gave no quarter. Being beaten black and blue sometimes was the only way to teach him a lesson, and unfortunately that was a trait he never seemed to lose. Waking up in a hospital bed or recovering from a clandestine mission or drunken revelry was nothing new to him, but something was different on this day. The silence in the room was a mirror, and for some reason it caused him to reflect on the night before. The beating he had received? The parting words from his brother? The hangover from Hell? What was so different?

 

Who was that woman last night?

 

Genji attempted to move, but upon further inspection, he realized he was restrained. One of his arms was suspended by a cast in a cradle.  

 

“[Do not struggle. This is for the best.]”

 

Genji looked down, and sure enough, Kita was there, but what surprised the ninja was that he was not alone. The first thing he saw was somewhat perplexing, golden hair, bound back in a high ponytail. It stood up like the top of a palm tree, sprayed in every which direction as its owner’s head was cradled in their arms, sitting in a chair and resting at his bedside.

 

Money, power, and influence could buy almost anything in the world, and at the height of his ego, Genji had sampled all that he could, but the most delicate and succulent fruit of all was women. Models actresses, easterners or westerners, all had been accessories for under his arm at one point, the most gorgeous women from all over the land, all statuesque and majestic in their own right.

 

Yet, in that moment, Genji was mesmerized by the beauty that he had behold. It didn’t make sense, but he couldn’t keep his mind off the sloppy hair tie, the wrinkled labcoat, the rhythmic breathing or the gentle snoring coming from underneath the fort of arms at his side. Kita was there, draped around the doctor’s shoulder and spiraling around in a heap beside her, rejoicing in the warmth of her soul.

 

Not sure if his hands were his anymore, Genji fought through the pain in his brain as he slowly lifted his free arm, reached across the bed, and touched the top of the hair beside him. Like King Midas with the power to turn whatever he touched into gold, he kept feeling the golden follicles before him, entranced by their feel. But, either from his compromised motor skills or being too bold, he caused his guest to stir.

 

Kita awoke, and quickly fled into his master as the doctor at his bedside slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes and giving a very long yawn. After realizing where she was, Doctor Ziegler looked to her side and rejoiced at what she saw, “Oh, goodness. Sparrow, You’re awake. ” She paused, breaking eye contact with him before having to admit, “I’m sorry, but everything happened so quickly that I- well…I wasn’t able to save your eye”

 

Genji felt his face with his free hand, and sure enough most of what was left of his head was covered in heavy bandaging, including what had once been his remaining human eye. It seemed that he had gotten exactly what he had wished for. What truly surprised him, though, was if this woman was his doctor the entire time. He felt as if this was the first time they had met.

 

“It’s not your fault.” He said.

 

She gave a sigh of relief, “I’m just glad your awake. The toxicology report from your accident showed the amount of chemical impurities in your bloodstream was… was… incredible. I don’t understand how you were able to get all the way out there. If the cleansing machine had defected, then I would hardly believe you could stand let alo-”

 

“No… doctor,” Genji interrupted, then admitting, “It was me. I was trying to get a drink and…” his mind drifted to Hanzo ambushing him, Genji tried to think of the easiest way to explain what had happened that night and wagered if it would put the doctor in harm’s way. Before he could think too far, Kita spoke to his mind.

 

“[No, Genji. Hanzo wasn’t that. That was all your mind trying end its own torment.]”

 

Angela, assuming the worst, frowned at what she had done to this poor man and gave him her sympathies. Meanwhile, Genji came to realize the consequences of having his late night excursion now that he was ultimately found out. He had already been on a tight leash, and sneaking out of the base was not going to make his new Blackwatch masters very happy. But, that would have to be his cross to bear now.

 

After waiting for another moment, Angela rose from her chair, stretching her back, still wearing the same clothes from when she had driven out of her house and into the night. She stood by Genji’s side and said, “I suppose that now you’re awake, that I should inform Reyes of your condition.” She looked towards the door, and then back at her patient, and said, “Well, Mr. Sparrow, you may recount the events of last to the best of your ability, _but..._ ” she added, “I would prefer to let me further investigate your bloodwork and dialysis machine. I have heard that in some patients, an unbalanced remedy or malfunction can cause severe hallucinations.”

 

She reached down, putting her hand beside some of the mechanical inputs on the side of Genji’s cranium, adding , “I just regret that your DSB didn’t survive the accident.” And with that, she removed the Digital Sensory Bank, the log of all actions, conditions, and inputs performed by its user, from its plugin slot, slipping it into her pants. It took a moment for Genji to realize what she had done, and for as awkward as it made him feel, Genji thanked her. For how much it ashamed him to admit it, he didn’t even know her name.

 

She winced, pulling her hand out of her pocket clenched in a fist. Genji looked down and saw that her fingers were wrapped up in medical tape and gauze.

 

“What’s wrong?” Genji asked.

 

Angela shook her head, “Oh, it’s nothing. I cut myself last night… I supposed I grabbed your sword where I shouldn’t have.” She motioned to one of her hands, wrapped in gauze and a bag. “Don’t worry. Help was ready when we arrived, and seeing that I had been compromised, one of the other surgeons took the lead and I stood by and advised them on what to do.”

 

Genji felt pangs of guilt fill him, even when he was inebriated and incoherent, he still found ways to hurt people, but this time he supposed he could actually do something about it now. He adjusted himself in his cot and asked, “may I see it?” Angela shook her head, quickly adding that it was nothing, but Genji insisted. So, to not upset a wounded patient, Angela gingerly unwrapped the hasty work on the inside of her hands, and revealed a two deep cuts. One along the inside of her middle, ring and small finger, while the other was deep within her palm, clotting up by a big mass of gauze.

 

Genji put his thumb over the wound on her fingers, and spoke in his mind, “[Kita, I need your help.]”. The Great Dragon awakened and manifested its energy within him, and Genji moved his thumb over the lacerations, not immediately healing the wound, but removing the rage that empowered the bite of his blade, allowing the flesh to heal.

 

The doctor, unaware of what was happening, rewrapped her wound and made a mental note to get some better aide for her cut before she said, “It’s alright, Sparrow, its not your fault. Please, rest now, things will be alright.”  She turned to the door and prepared to leave, but as soon as she put her hand on the door, Genji asked her to wait, to which she did.

 

“Thank you, Doctor. And…” he thought for a moment, and finally said, “You don’t have to call me Sparrow anymore.”

 

She tilted her head, surprised in a way, and then asked, “Oh, then what shall I call you now?”

 

“Just… Genji.”

 

She smiled, and in that one singular moment, Genji felt as if his pride had been healed. “Well then, you’re welcome, Genji.” She opened the door, preparing to leave, but then stopped and closed it once more. Not letting go of the doorknob, Angela turned to her patient and said, “I left a cellphone for you underneath the pillow.” Genji’s remaining eyebrow raised, to which Angela said, “Its for… Whenever you need someone.”

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Tell it to My Heart by Taylor Dayne

How Deep is your Love by The Bee Gees

Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye

Can’t help Falling in love by Elvis Presley

I’ll be there for You By Bon Jovi

Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler

More than Words by Extreme

 


	2. Sitting by the phone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to try something a little different this time. For as much as I am interested, the narrative of the story was complete in the previous chapter, but I felt the supplemental material related enough to it as well as not being complete enough to become their own narratives as well. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Sitting by the phone

 

The medical facility was closed at this hour. Patients were sleeping, surgery was shut down, offices were empty, and the triage nurses were waiting at their desks for a random phonecall to liven up their night, but one light was still on. In the Experimental treatment and augmentation wing, the light in Genji Shimada’s room was still on. His high-tech chair was filtering out his blood, and the sensation of losing and regaining ones fluid was not one to sleep through, but what was most unusual was that he was not plunged in darkness.

 

Sure, he now had a new set of armor in place of his prototype chassis, and the unfortunate circumstance of his late night escapade had resulted in both of his arms bieng metal now, but instead of hiding his form among the ambient beep and boops of machines in the room, he was unafraid what others may think of his body.

It was late, and he did need to rest, but it could wait. In the meantime, he just closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift as his lifeblood was cleaned for him. Kita was at his side, the Great Dragon coiled up atop himself on the floor as he rested. The spiritual dragon was more opaque, not as frail as when he was struggling to not fade out of existence now that he had regained some of his strength. Genji would never tell him, but he always that the Ancestral Dragon looked like a big pile of green dog shit when he rounded himself up like that.

 

The television was off, but there was noise in the room. In his hand was his precious treasure, a cell phone. He had hidden it when he was away, and did not risk allowing it to access the internet lest it be linked back to him or its previous owner, but luckily the function he was using it for didn’t need any of that.

 

As he closed his eyes and mind wandered, music began to flow from the phone in his hand, filling the room and directing his mind along on a spiritual journey. A guitar began to strum, the gentle cord building the world around him, trees growing from the dirt, skyscrapers reaching as high as the eye can see, and a great mountain in the background, the lord for all that it’s image touched.

 

 

Then a flute came, and its gentle sound echoed through the land, filling the air and giving rise to wind. The gust passed through the trees, the buildings, and caused the grass to wave as it passed by, and for as calm as the breeze felt, nothing on earth could stop its flow. Then, another guitar joined it’s fellow, and all three picked up their tempo and created once last being in this world.

 

The last thing to grace this creation was a girl- no, not a girl, a woman- full of charm and youth and had a benign smile as bright as the sun. She stood at the edge of the tallest building’s rooftop, hands on the rail as she looked out on the tranquility before her; where the mountains met the sky, where the city met the country, looking out with eyes as beautiful as the painted sky above. Genji couldn’t help himself but watch, frozen in his spot, watching as she slowly let go of the rail and turned his way.

 

He was afraid in that moment, unsure what to do and certain that he would ruin the moment. His form, his body, his past, he didn’t want it to tamper with what he had been graced with. But before they could lock eyes, she was gone. Genji ran to the rail where she had been and looked down, seeing a train darting through the buildings and out of the city.

 

He had to go after her. Without any hesitation, he jumped from his perch and glided to street level, beginning pursuit.

 

“ _'I’m gonna take a freight train, down at the station, Lord._

 _I don't care where it goes_.”

 

He ran through the empty streets, as fast as his robot legs could take him. His money, his fame, his past, they all held him back, and the train kept getting further and further away. It wasn’t until he let go of it all that his mind became free of burden and his feet became lighter.

 

_“Gonna climb me a mountain, the highest mountain_

_Jump off, nobody gonna know._

 

_Can't you see Oh, can't you see?_

_What that woman, she been doin' to me?”_

 

He ran as fast as he could, but he could not catch up to her. Yet, never once did he lose sight of her. For even as much as her gaze struck fear into him, he could not shake the sight of her. The train that carried her away was empty, like it was reserved exclusively for her. She stood at a rail, looking out of the plate glass window, keeping her gaze locked with the landscape before her as she slowly approached the snowcapped peaks in the distance.  It all flustered Genji, how dare this train, this mountain, this sky, how dare they all try to intrude on his vision? Did they gather around her to mask their own imperfections?

 

As the train slowed to a stop, the woman exited at the station and Genji erased the intrusion from his mind as she walked down the forest’s path.

 

_“I’m gonna buy me a ticket now, as far as I can_

_Ain't a-never comin' back._

_Gonna ride me a Southbound,_

_All the way to Georgia no,_

_Till the train run out of track. Woah Lord,_

_Can’t you see? Can’t you see?_

_What that woman, she been doin’ to me?”_

 

The path was winding and bent along the curves of the forest, but she followed the path none the less, gracing every tree with her sight, and in turn the great oaks waved their greetings in the wind and bowed before her presence. Genji cut through the beaten path, darting a line through the forest and glancing off all of the blows from the branches that stood in his way.  As he broke through the barrier of the final barrier of the forest, he found himself at the foot of the great mountain that had once only been a piece of scenery in the distance.

 

He tried to find where his muse had gone, but it wasn’t until she had walked halfway up the mountain path that he had found her. She was only moving at a gingery pace, giving every step, every view, every rock along the path its own due as she moved closer and closer to the mysterious goal at the apex of the summit.

 

Thus, Genji threw caution to the wind and began to climb, never giving the danger of failure a second thought as he fought for every inch of his climb up the steep face of the mountain.

_“I'm gonna find me, a hole in the wall_

_I’m gonna crawl inside and die._

_'Cause my lady now,_

_mean ol' woman lord,_

_never told me goodbye._

_Can't you see? oh can't you see?_

_What that woman lord, she been doin' to me?_

 

 

Genji reached the mountain’s summit, and with nowhere else to go, fear began to grow in his mind as he could not find the one that he had been pursuing. His heart fell at the prospect of never seeing her again, but just as he lost hope, two arms wrapped around his waist. Just as the powers that had created this world cresendeoed to the apex of his power, he realized the folly of his ways.

 

He had not been chasing her, he had been running from himself, or rather, what he believed she would see, his ego, anger, his lust, the things he had to discard to forge the man that he wanted her to see, the man he had wanted to become. Even as fast as he ran, through all of it, she had always been following right behind him, just two steps behind at all times.

 

_“Oh she's such a crazy lady,_

_Can't you see?_

_What that woman,  she been doin' to me?_

_Can't you see?_

_Lord I can't stand- oh can't you see?- What that woman,_

_Oh, she been doin' to me?”_

The city turned to ash, the forest fell where it stood, and the mountain crumbled beneath their feet, but in the end, the two were left standing there, Genji afraid of what she would see him as, and she being right at his back the entire time. Stuck in position as the final notes fell and the two were together.

 

Genji opened his eyes, finding himself still in his room, still in his chair, still a man made out of machines that needed other machines to make sure he functioned correctly. He felt calm, relaxed, it was nice for a change. He looked at the phone and thought on the song, he had never been of this kind of music. Sure, he had heard the oriental covers of Billy Denver or John Cash, but it didn’t really sound like “Country”. To be honest, he wasn’t really sure what it was. Maybe if he listened to it one more time it would help him make up his mind.

 

He thumbed the controls on the phone and hit repeat, but as soon as he did it, he heard Kita stir beside him, and the Great Dragon gave a huff.

 

He turned, seeing the serpent with its eyes open watching him, a grin smugly stretched across his maw as he sat atop the fort made from his coiled form.

 

The two stared each other down, Genji’s defensive gaze meeting with Kita’s smug condescension until the ninja finally asked, “What?”

 

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Water’s wet, fish swim, grass is green, Trump’s my president, and Marshal Tucker Band is NOT COUNTRY!

 

That is all.

 

 


	3. The Things we do for Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter. I wanted to experiment with writing and tried my hand at things that I haven't really written before, but still, this was a fun little chapter to write.

“I wrote the greatest love ballad of the 1970’s; Cat Scratch Fever.”

-‘Terrible’ Ted Nugent

 

High walls and long hallways. Like a rat trapped in a maze, Angela Ziegler ran as fast as she reasonably could down the stretch of hallway. The place that she had found herself in was a warehouse, but its confining nature was due to the hundreds of sheets of plywood that had been brought into the space and connected together to create a one level, symmetrical, structure. She ran in a panic, occasionally glancing over her shoulder and eyes darting all around as she tried to remember the identical wooden walls as she fled. Her hair was tied up as normal, but her bangs, which at one point had been secured to her head with a line of bobby pins, was now slick with sweat and sticking to the set of work goggles and blocked her sight as she ran.

 

The panicked state of the doctor was enough to rouse suspicion, but it was debatable if it was the most interesting thing about her at the moment. Instead, what probably was the first thing the eye would notice would be her attire. Unlike a normal day around the office, she was not in a labcoat and fine dress clothes, or a pair of generic blue scrubs, but instead she was wearing normal street clothes. Firstly, she was wearing a pair of light blue jeans, a garment that the saleswoman at the department store was great for the wear and tear of the local park or grocery store and also was guaranteed to make any woman’s butt look rounder. Above said jeans was what to the uncaring eye would probably declare to be the most abominable looking tie-dye shirt ever created by man, but there was more to that than met the eye.

 

Before a few hours earlier, the T shirt had once been a solid orange color, an extra large sized souvenir from a girls’ summer retreat that Angela had attended years ago and had intended to use as a spare pair of pajamas if needed. As such, if any onlookers cared to not focus on the splotches of color all over the front, they would notice that the back and bottom of the front were still one solid color.  Years had gone by, and the shirt had stayed tucked away in its owner’s drawers, not seeing the light of day until now.

 

In the days leading up to the events taking place, Angela had retrieved the ugly spare shirt and thought that it was perfect for what she had on her agenda. After all, it wasn’t everyday that Overwatch takes a break from shooting and playing soldiers to have an extracurricular activity that she was actually interested in. It just surprised her that Commanders Morrison and Reyes would allow a calm and casual therapy session for the organization. It seemed out of character for either of them to take up painting as a hobby, but she wasn’t going to complain.

 

So, to make the right impression and give the men something to glance at, she got on a good pair of jeans, wore the throwaway shirt, and prepared for a warm summer’s day of teambuilding with her coworkers.

 

It wasn’t until she arrived that they gave her a gun and she finally learned what “Paintball” really was.

 

And so, with her chest feeling like it had been beaten black, blue and covered with random splotches of paint, Angela ran for dear life; pistol in hand, one shoe untied, and breasts bouncing like two pit bulls who were trying desperately escape from the confines of her shirt.

 

She ran, trying to put the sound of CO2 spitting projectiles as far behind her as she could, coming to intersections and only giving them a glance to see if they were safe before running for dear life. She went down a hall, going wherever her feet would take her, but before she knew it, she was standing before a wooden wall, surrounded on three sides, trapped.

 

She backed up a step, hesitating at the predicament she was in, mentally shouting ‘Nein, nein, nein, nein!’. She turned around, preparing to retrace her steps to find another way out, but before she could take a step back, she heard the telltale sound of footsteps. The trademark clink of spurs came closer, and Blackwatch’s own cowboy, Jesse McCree rounded the corner.

 

Trapped, Angela gave out a cry and raised her arms, one covering chest while the one holding the gun went up to protect her head. Jesse, paintball pistol still holstered, inched his way closer, finding that tormenting the Swiss doctor lady was too much fun to pass up as he said, “Reach for the sky.”

 

She didn’t respond, of course, already too terrified to comprehend what he was saying, but that didn’t matter. Jesse flexed his fingers, focusing his reflexes and getting himself into a gunslinger’s trance as he focused on his target. Finding an unmarked spot on her left boob, Jesse’s brow furrowed as he declared for the 11th time that day, “It’s high noon…” Faster than a viper’s strike, he drew his sidearm and fired, not even letting it pass his hip as his instincts took over and he fired from his training and past practice with point of aim.

 

Then, lunging down from the rafters faster than a gunslinger at a duel, Genji Shimada appeared on the warehouse floor, landing on his feet and at the ready, himself preparing for the moment to strike. Jesse, having focused all of his senses on the good doctor’s knockers, was completely blindsided when the ninja landed in front of him and –defying all laws of physics- deflected the paintball with his short sword and sent it back to its sender.

 

Struck clean between the eyes, Jesse took a step back from the blow, and after realizing what had happened, wiped the mark away and said, “Aw, come on. Why’d ya have to do that?”

 

Genji said nothing, only stood his ground and gave the American a look that could only be compared to a nasty alley cat hissing at a pedestrian that had just wandered into his territory. Eventually, Jesse turned around and walked away, moving to exit the arena until the next round started, and free of the threat, Genji eased out of his defensive pose.

 

Splat.

 

Genji looked over his shoulder, seeing a small yellow blotch of paint now decorating the back of his shoulder blade. He turned even more, and saw that Dr. Ziegler, completely unaware of what had happened moments before, was still cowering and shielding her face away from the action, but after what must have amounted to a mountain of courage to actually defend herself, had stretched out her arm and lazily aimed in the direction of where her attacker had been and fired.

 

Seeing her still hiding and whimpering from before, Genji gave the doctor a sigh and said, “Oh brother…”

 

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Jokes on you, this story’s not a shipfic. LAWL!


End file.
